So. I'm not even entirely sure how to start this.
When I was pregnant with DS (who just turned 3, btw) I didn't want sex, like...at all. I was actually repulsed by DH's touch because I just...wasn't ever turned on. During this time my husband checked out of the marriage. I figured once the baby came and maybe I was more in the mood he'd come back around. But he never did. I poured everything I had into the marriage. I would dress up, try to be in the mood when I wasn't but no matter what I did I couldn't bring him back in. Whenever I asked a question the answer was ALWAYS "I don't know" or "I don't care." ALWAYS. I'm not even exaggerating. So after a while I stopped caring. I stopped caring that he had zero interest in our marriage. I stopped caring that the only time he paid attention to me was for food and sex. Then eventually I stopped caring to the point that I stopped trying. Then an old boyfriend came back into my life. Just as a friend. And he listened to me, and he paid attention to me. And just remembering how that felt brought back all kinds of feelings and emotions I thought I'd buried for good. (Yes, buried. Not were gone. This man and I have a very complicated past. He's actually married with kids too.) Well he came out one day and said he was feeling what I was feeling. And I said we couldn't talk anymore. We were married to other people and it wasn't fair to them. Well I told my husband I was talking to this friend again and what he said. Well, in typical fashion my husband didn't seem to care at first. Then he started to realize everything. Well shit hit the fan and things had to get worse before they got better. I told him I still wanted to talk to my friend as a friend. That we'd always been friends and if I just told my friend that's all we could be, we could do what we did 8 years ago and just bury everything and be friends. He gave me an ultimatum. That's a great thing to have in a marriage. Well his parents noticed we were having problems and his mom came to talk to us. Sat us down and told me what a horrible everything I was. Said I was crappy mother, wife, housekeeper, etc. He said nothing to defend me. I'm an internal person. I write the confusing stuff in my head down in a journal. That was a private thing. Something where I was trying to sort out everything with my friend and my husband on paper before trying to verbalize it. He read it. Breaking trust. Well, we went to counseling and things seemed to be getting better. He told me he'd become addicted to porn since my pregnancy and that's why when we were together he didn't last very long, which in more ways than one was a betrayal of trust because for the past 2.5 years he'd let me feel guilty that I wasn't in the mood more and let me blame myself for his stamina. And he made an attempt to stop answering questions that way. Then I got pregnant. And while he was happy, it was like the baby wasn't real to him. Then I lost it. He didn't go to the ER with me when I realized what was happening and, while yes, part of that was my decision, he didn't try to fight me on it. He didn't WANT to go. Well that night I was laying in bed crying and he asked me what I was thinking. So I told him. I told him I was incredibly sad, and mad, and hurt. He asked what I was mad at. I said God, and his family, and everything. He asked what his family had to do with it and I said his mother already thought I was a shit human being, if she ever found out about this she'd just feel that way more. That his sister can get pregnant just by thinking about getting pregnant and have zero complication and it had taken us a year to get pregnant and the I lose it. And his family treats my son differently than his sister's kids and everything. He then YELLED AT and BERATED me for my feelings. Merely 4 hours after being discharged from the hospital. Well, I've never wanted to raise my children in a broken home having grown up in a broken home, so I stayed. Unhappy. Being able to fully see everything that's wrong, but not caring enough anymore to say anything. He's slipped back into bad habits, like throwing a tantrum if I don't want sex, and sometimes only paying attention to me when he's hungry or horny or if I forgot to clean the house because I spent the day playing with my son. Then we went on vacation a couple of weeks ago and my son is having trouble with pooping in the potty, has for a few months now but my husband's job keeps him away from the house so he doesn't really know that, and I snapped and got mad for a minute and HE looked at me like I was horrible mother. Then got passive aggressive about things and got mad that I wouldn't screw him with our 3 year old son less than 3 feet away, and half a dozen other little small things. The way I can best describe our marriage is this...a plate that has been broken. several pieces shattered and unable to go back on the whole, but the pieces that could be fixed seem fixed. The plate isn't pretty. It really barely functions as a plate, but it kind of does, so it stays being used. I kinda hate him, but won't leave because I don't want my son to grow up that way. So I sit, in purgatory. Waiting for something to happen. Kind of knowing it never will.
If you've made it this far thanks for your patience with this. Got longer than I planned.
on Apr. 24, 2014 at 11:25 PM